Poems by Seamus Justin Heaney
Fear Not The Gravy Of Osiris
... The spuds Of the Nepilim ...
Singing School
... esently, when I began to dream of my future life, I thought I would like to die fighting the Fenians ...
North
... trust the feel of what nubbed treasure ...
Glanmore Sonnets
... s trunk, Its green young shoots, its rods like freckled solder: ...
Ode To Maurice Titchborne 1938-2011
... The Winter's Harsh melancholy brings the ...
Thy Mustard Is Keen And Thy Branston Is Sticky But Piquant
... Pies Are without substance when ...
Foul Is The Air We Breath
... None but One that is worthy ...
Punishment
... ...and tribal, intimate revenge ...
The Harvest Bow
... Blue smoke straight up, old beds and ploughs in hedges, ...
